


Stay

by WolfenM



Series: Finding Reason [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, Episode Tag, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Godfather - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insight, Letters, Redemption, Series Finale, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, series six christmas special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 09:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfenM/pseuds/WolfenM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Few had ever seemed to actually want Thomas around before -- so why did they have to go and want him <i>now</i>, when he <i>had</i> to go? .... An exploration of the Thomas-centric events of the series finale of Downton Abbey, as well as a few missing scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoliers for _Downton Abbey_ 6.9. Note: the Hughes/Carson and Anna/Bates romance aspect is minimal.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Thomas Barrow, Charles Carson, Elsie Hughes, Robert Crawley / Earl of Grantham, John Bates, Anna Bates (nee Smith), Beryl Patmore, Tom Branson, Edith Crawley, Cora Crawley / Lady Grantham, Mary Crawley, Sybbie Branson, Daisy Mason (nee Robinson), Andy Parker, and Jimmy Kent © Julian Fellowes / ITV / PBS. This is just fanfiction, not an official story for the series, and no profit is being made by the author.

Thomas was proud of himself. When Anna suggested that he might use his time left at Downton to reflect on what had brought him so low, he didn't roll his eyes, didn't make a sarcastic remark in reply, and didn't get angry. He didn't point out that he knew damn well what had driven him to suicide, and it included things beyond his control -- the laws of man and God that forbid him from finding romantic love, and the people who worked to enforce them. The fact that he was going to lose his home because the estate couldn't afford such a large staff. The fact that there weren't many jobs to be had.

Instead, he decided he would work on the things that _were_ in his control: the way he treated others, and how he looked at the world. He would stop letting his anger fester, stop sabotaging himself, and stop giving people reasons to dislike him. (If anyone still hated him even when he was kind, that was on them, not him.) He would stop being the emotional equivalent of a porcupine. He would stop waiting for others to be nice, and start making the first gestures of kindness himself. Maybe he didn't quite know how to _do_ that yet, but he would make the effort to figure it out. Baxter, Anna, even Bates ... everyone loved them. Surely he could learn by their example?

~* * *~  
He'd been praying for this day, a day where the post brought acceptance instead of rejection; he just wished he could enjoy it more. He was pleased that Anna seemed glad he wouldn't be far, that it meant they would still see him -- he hadn't really expected that. But it still meant leaving the only other place he'd called home, and he still didn't _want_ to go.

He also didn't know what to make of Carson's reaction. Was the man sincere when he said Thomas deserved it? Was he simply being polite? Was he actually being sarcastic? Or did he think the position was worthless, and such was all Thomas deserved?

~* * *~  
When Carson said they wouldn't insist on him working out his notice, Thomas shouldn't have been surprised, shouldn't have been disappointed, but he was. _Couldn't_ Carson have insisted? Was it that Carson thought he was being kind and helpful, or was he just still that eager for Thomas to go?

Patmore's reaction stung, but he didn't exactly blame her for being unsure if he was a good or bad thing -- she had always been motherly to Daisy, and didn't seem to have forgotten, much less forgiven, how Thomas had encouraged the girl's fancy of him to spite William. He supposed he should be touched that Patmore seemed nostalgic about their many years together, at least.

He decided to think better of Patmore and Carson both, believe they meant to be kind, and not hold it against them that they weren't very good at it -- neither was he, after all, and if he wanted a second chance, he needed to grant them one in turn, he supposed.

He didn't know what to feel about Bates, though -- he appreciated that Anna didn't want her husband to speak unkindly of his departure, but now Thomas would always wonder if that was even what the man had meant to do. Bates had been kind enough to join him for cards the night Thomas had nearly died, after all, and had been ... well, if not overly friendly, at least civil ever since. Was that out of pity? Was it that Thomas wasn't long for the Abbey, and no longer worth wasting a thought on? Or had the man inexplicably warmed up to Thomas? A strange part of Thomas would actually rather have heard a snide remark than been left to wonder one way or the other ....

Well, then again, it didn't really matter either way -- Thomas already understood that the only thing he could change about his life was himself. Let Bates continue to hate him if he insisted on it; Thomas could at least stop adding to the list of reasons why the man did.

~* * *~  
The fact that Baxter, of all people, should comment that it wasn't like him to care only strengthened his resolve about his plan. If even she, who had always insisted on believing better of him, was surprised by him caring about Lady Edith -- even after he'd expressed worry for His Lordship (... or was she teasing him? He'd said at the time that he was surprised he cared, hadn't he?) -- then he had his work cut out for him. He wondered then if she even believed change was possible for him -- so he confessed his plan. He was relieved to find her encouraging -- and happy to realise there was a way he could return the favour.

He spoke from experience when he warned her away from Coyle. His father had similarly had a stranglehold on his own life ... until one day, he'd decided the man's opinion wasn't worth anything. His father had believed a charlatan over his own son, after all! And so Thomas stopped seeking his father's approval, and his sister's too. He wasn't going to change for them, and he couldn't expect them to change for him, so he'd stopped writing to them. He'd kept the letters to remind himself not to trust anyone, that love would only lead to heartbreak ... but that way of thinking had only kept him even lonelier, not protected him from pain. He realised now that keeping the letters had allowed them to still hold sway over him after all. Anna, Baxter, Mrs Hughes, Andy ... they all knew what he was and hadn't turned away when he needed help. There _were_ people he could trust.

He went upstairs, gathered the letters, and burned them, determined not to carry that pain with him into his new life.

~* * *~  
He never would have imagined saying goodbye would be so hard. He was happy for Lady Edith, truly, but to his surprise, he found himself wishing the whole of the family could have stayed until his last day, so he might have a little longer to ... to what? Get used to the idea? Spend more time with them? Postpone the inevitable? At least Lady Mary, Master George, and Lady Sybbie were staying to the end, but it broke his heart that Baxter was the first he'd have to say goodbye to -- he'd actually hoped she'd walk him to the station when it came time to go ....

It touched him more than he could say when she kissed his cheek, like his sister might have done. He wondered -- perhaps a little vindictively -- how his sister would feel if she saw this woman, who had once been her best friend, essentially taking her place in his life.

He was moved again when Bates offered his hand in friendship. Why couldn't it have happened sooner? Why were all the good feelings coming only when it was too late to bask in them? Still, he was glad -- better late than never, and better given freely than begged for.

The sentiment continued to nearly overwhelm him as he said goodbye to His Lordship and Her Ladyship.

Here was a man who'd kept him out of jail and in his house even after knowing for certain what he was, never mind the potential for scandal. Seeing now how other houses turned him away for the sake of even just the vaguest suspicion of what he was, Thomas, already thankful of the reprieve at the time, had come to appreciate it anew.

And here was a woman who had treated him as her trusted second during the war, allowing him, a former servant, to bark commands in her own home. He regretted now having acted in such a way as to ever have lost her trust and approval -- but was proud to have been able, at least once in his life, to have acted in a way that earned her gratitude.

Even so, he was a little awed when His Lordship offered not only well-wishes, but his hand. Thomas didn't recall ever seeing a servant aside from Bates or Carson (or Branson, and did he count, being family now?) receive such a sign of respect. He'd felt for a long while that he'd fallen far in the man's eyes, especially after the incident with Gwen -- indeed, Grantham's lecture had given Thomas much food for thought on kindness, words other people had since echoed (or perhaps it just took Grantham to finally make Thomas listen). Now, though, it seemed all was forgiven -- they even seemed fond of him!

This time, he wouldn't be leaving in shame, like when his father tossed him out. Perhaps this was what it was _truly_ supposed to be like for a young man to leave the proverbial nest ....

He wished he had a chance to say goodbye to Lady Edith, but he was glad for her. If he'd really saved her for better things ... maybe he'd been saved for better things himself?

~* * *~  
The time for final goodbyes had come. Anna, Daisy, Andy, Molesley, even Patmore wished him well -- and seemed to _mean_ it! To think he'd thought himself so reviled just a few months gone, and here everyone seemed sad to see him go!

Mrs Hughes would surely never imagine how deeply her demand for a kiss moved him; in sterness and softness both, she was the closest thing to a mother he'd known since his own had died when he was a boy, and the only woman he'd kissed since last he'd seen his sister. 

And Carson .... He'd often compared Carson to his father. Now, finally, he felt like he'd gained the approval he thought he never would. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly of a _resounding_ variety, but it was far more than he would have ever hoped for -- and like with the others, it felt like more than politeness. It felt ... _heartfelt_. And the truth of the matter was, the man _had_ taught him a great deal, and was likely the most knowledgeable teacher anyone could wish for. He realised he would miss Carson, crankiness and all, as predictable as the clocks that Thomas found so comforting ....

Thomas was relieved Lady Mary brought the children down -- he didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to them, and her, but he didn't think he could have brought himself to seek them out. As it was, he was struggling to hold back the tears, and seeing them now almost broke the dam.

Especially when George asked him not to go.

Until this week, throughout his whole life, only Edward had ever wanted to stay with Thomas. Everyone else, sooner or later, tried to get rid of him -- or at least, didn't do anything to keep him or stay by his side. Even his mother -- he knew it wasn't her fault she got sick, but some childish part of him still felt abandoned by her. That same part, he supposed, felt the same about Lady Sybil.

But perhaps Sybil hadn't left him after all -- not completely: here was her daughter Sybbie, arms around him, clearly wishing like George (and apparently like Mrs Hughes) that he could stay.

When the goodbyes were done, he was almost grateful for the threatening tears, which urged him off before they could betray and embarrass him -- otherwise, he might never have found the strength to walk out the door.

He paused outside, taking deep breaths and drying cheeks that had gotten wet the moment he stepped outside, never mind the lack of rain. After a minute, he decided perhaps it was best to slip back on his old, cold, aloof self -- just until his journey was over. It was surprisingly hard to slip that mask back on, though.

And the effort was wasted when he came around the front, to the car that was to take him to the train, shock shattering his facade.

Tom Branson was in the driver's seat.

"Hullo, Mr Barrow! I've an errand to run, so I thought I'd take you myself, if that's all right?"

Thomas only managed a nod and a mumbled thanks as he slipped into the passenger's seat.

"I never did get around to thanking you, did I?" the man remarked as they drove off.

"For ...?" Thomas asked, truly at a loss.

"Her Ladyship said you were the one who clued her in to there being a problem with Nanny West. So thank you for looking after Sybbie."

"I would have done anything for Lady Sybil," Thomas replied honestly. "I could do no less for her daughter."

Branson chuckled. "But not for me, I know."

Thomas didn't know what to say to that.

"Did you think I was betraying her memory with Miss Bunting?"

Thomas paled. There was a bit of that, but it wasn't the whole of the situation. But either way, he knew Sybil wouldn't have approved of his thoughts about her husband.

"It's all right, Barrow -- to be honest, I half felt that way myself about the whole thing. And I know you think I overstepped myself, marrying Sybil in the first place."

Thomas cringed; so Branson had figured it out -- or close enough. "You make me sound like Carson," Thomas replied ruefully. "It wasn't really _that_ , though -- not with you or with Gwen. It was more of ... well, jealousy, really. I'd gotten it in my head that you both must be looking _down_ at me, since you'd gained rank, and it was galling. I'm sorry about the way I acted. Truly."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate that. For what it's worth, Barrow, I would have liked for us to be friends. We had fun at the fair a couple years or so ago, didn't we? Sybil spoke highly of you -- I think she would have wanted it."

Thomas suddenly wondered how different life would have been at Downton if Sybil had lived. There had been one other reason Thomas hadn't much liked Branson, a reason he knew was ridiculous and unfair but hadn't been able to shake: the notion that Sybil wouldn't have died if she hadn't married Branson. But if she had survived the pregnancy, then surely she would have wanted Thomas to treat her husband well? How could he do less on his own now than she would have asked of him herself?

Besides, wasn't blaming Branson akin to blaming Sybbie ...?

"I'm sorry now that we _didn't_ become friends," Thomas realised. For caring so much about her memory, he hadn't exactly lived by her example.

"Well, it's never too late, you know. You'll be back to visit, and we could always write. I'd love any stories you might have of Sybil's nursing days -- I could read them to Sybbie!"

"I'll do that," Thomas promised.

When they reached the train station and unloaded the car, Thomas held out his hand. "Goodbye, Mr Branson. And thank you. For everything."

Branson chuckled and, taking the hand, drew Thomas in for a hug. "It's Tom, Thomas. And I hate goodbyes, so this is just 'Until next time.'"

Thomas managed a smile, though the threat of tears still stung his eyes. "Until next time," he agreed.

As he watched his new friend drive away, he barely resisted the urge to run after the car and beg to go back home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has joined the Stiles household. Letters are exchanged.

~* * *~  
"It's very quiet here," Phyllis Baxter read aloud from the letter she'd gotten from Thomas that morning -- the first from his new life. "There's only myself, Lord and Lady Stiles, Mrs Forrester the cook, and thrice a week we see young Miss Markham, the housemaid. The House is only about the size of the Dowager's. Lord and Lady Stiles barely say three words to each other all day, much less me. No news, no gossip.

"With so few people, the bookkeeping is a snap, I must say! I've also polished every scrap of silver and every shoe I could find, catalogued every drop of wine and every cheese wheel, and taken apart, cleaned, and put back together every clock, and yet the first week is only half over! Mrs Forrester doesn't want help with the cooking -- although she'll take it with the dish-washing, at least. Otherwise, I'm despairing of something to do! 

"The empty hours would be wonderful for reading, if only there were books of interest here. The library seems to hold nothing but old ledgers, family histories accounting little more than farm yields, without even the slightest tawdry details. Lord Stiles considers fiction, even Shakespeare, the result of a diseased mind, a tool of the Devil. There are no Greek Classics, no Roman histories -- he discounts those too as fancies that rot the brain. I suspect the owner of the local bookstore is soon to become my best friend, once I finally get a chance to go out!

"But for now, Lord Stiles wants me constantly on-hand for some inexplicable reason, even though he rarely actually _calls_ on me. Perhaps I will write a book myself -- I mean, if Mr Spratt can write a column doling out advice to ladies, why shouldn't another butler become a novelist? As it is, I'd be constantly writing all of you, but there's naught to actually fill letters with! I hope you'll all take pity on old Thomas and keep me well-informed about Downton! Yes, Andy, you too!

"Give my love to the children, and my best wishes to the family and everyone downstairs, please. I miss you all -- I mean it. Faithfully Yours, Thomas Barrow."

"My, that place sounds ...." Anna began after a moment, looking a little horrified but clearly trying to find something positive to say.

"Absolutely dreadful," Bates finished.

Anna nodded, sighing. "I'm sure it will get better ...." She didn't look like she believed it, though.

"I do hope he's joking about becoming a novelist," Carson remarked, looking worried.

"Oh, I don't -- I think he'd be quite good at it!" Mrs Hughes weighed in. "This path might have paved the way to his true calling!" She seemed to take a fiendish delight in her husband's discomfort at that, hiding a smile behind her tea.

"Well, hopefully he'll get the chance to come back for a visit soon," Phyllis hoped. Maybe she could even go visit _him_ ...?

"Who will?" Nanny asked, leading her charges into the hall. "Mr Barrow?"

"Yes! We've had a letter!" Daisy chirped.

"Oh, what timing! The children have a present for him, and wondered if anyone knew where we might send it!"

Little Sybbie held up a drawing, generating coos around the table. It was a little hard to decipher, but Sybbie helpfully explained, "It's Mr Barrow having tea with me and George."

"Well, it's beautiful -- I'm sure he'll love it!" Phyllis told her. "Would you like me to mail it for you?"

Sybbie nodded.

"Can we send a letter wiff it?" George asked shyly.

"Why, of course you can!" Phyllis smiled.

"Andy, fetch a bit of paper and a nice big envelope from my office, would you? There's a good lad ...." Carson said. "We could _all_ write Mr Barrow, and let him know we're thinking of him," he added, smiling fondly at the children. (That surprised Phyllis a little, but she supposed Carson would move heaven and earth for the children of Lady Mary and Lady Sybil, so a scrap of paper with a kind word, and an envelope, were small things in the grand scheme ....)

By the time lunch was over, they had all written at least a little something to send her friend, her and Anna and even Daisy each managing to fill a page apiece. She only hoped it was really enough to cheer him ....

~* * *~  
Thomas wanted to carry every letter and the drawing with him all the day long, but it wasn't really convenient, so he settled for carrying just the children's letter and Baxter's -- the rest, he would re-read only at night, before bed. With any luck, the drawer of _this_ nightstand would be filled quickly, with letters he was only too happy to read again and again. The drawing, meanwhile, he had framed; it sat on his bedside table at night, but came down into the kitchen with him in the mornings.

"Well, _someone_ has an admirer!" Mrs Forrester had cheerfully teased upon first seeing it.

It filled him with a strange sort of pride, hearing someone acknowledge that he was loved ....

~* * *~  
"The post, milady," Thomas offered, his heart stuttering in his chest. He highly suspected this letter was related to another letter that had come in the mail, one which had been addressed to him.

"Downton Abbey?" Lady Stiles read the return address aloud. "Isn't that where you're from?"

"It is, milady."

Her Ladyship opened the envelope with maddening slowness, and then read with all the haste of a snail on holiday. Finally, she glanced up in surprise. "Gracious! Saved her life!"

He only nodded, suddenly self-conscious. Lady Stiles went back to reading, and Thomas fought the urge to peer over her shoulder.

"Well, we can hardly say no to a request from the mother of a soon-to-be marchioness, can we?" Her smile suggested she was teasing and wasn't actually annoyed (as he assumed her husband would be).

"So I have your permission, then?" He held his breath, hoping.

"Yes, yes, my boy. So long as you don't mind me bragging that my butler once saved the life of a marchioness, by all means! We'll manage for one day -- the cook can serve. But don't make a habit of it!" She winked.

Thomas failed not to grin.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy homecoming!

Thomas couldn't remember being happier as he stepped through the servants' entrance back into Downton. Never mind that it wasn't to stay; for a little while, at least, he was allowed to be home. He wouldn't think about how long it might be before he was _again_ allowed to stay the night; for now, he just basked in the familiarity as he said hello to his old coworkers and sat for a few minutes in his old room (which was his again for a day, at least). He managed not to cry, not even when he saw the children again (including Marigold, whom he'd never gotten to say goodbye to). Well, he supposed it was hard to cry when you were running about giving piggyback rides ....

He even retained his good nature when Anna oh-so-helpfully pointed out that getting along with nearly non-existent coworkers was better than being at war with the whole world. He didn't in turn point out that he was very nearly as lonely now as he'd been before his suicide attempt, or how only knowing that people cared about him (even if he never got to _see_ them), and would be hurt if he tried again, kept him from _another_ suicide attempt. He wouldn't dare tell her that he didn't know if he could keep going if the letters stopped -- as he was certain they eventually would, because they always did, inevitably. (When _was_ the last time he'd heard from Jimmy? Six months now? Apparently the man's "best" attempt at correspondence was "once in a blue moon". Thomas suddenly realised he'd never even let Jimmy know he'd moved -- not that he expected _that_ to make a difference ....) Thomas was afraid of seeing anyone look at him with disappointment ever again -- and surely everyone would _be_ disappointed if they knew he was struggling ....

Though he understood why Lady Grantham had invited him, Thomas was still surprised that Lady Edith -- _and_ her new husband -- seemed so pleased to see him when he gave them his congratulations after the ceremony.

"I was shocked and sad to hear you'd left -- I wouldn't be here today if not for you, and it's hard to imagine this old place without you," Edith told him, taking his hand in both of hers when he would have moved aside for the next person. "Marigold told me she saw you today, that you gave her a piggyback ride. I don't think you'll ever know how much it means to me that you've always been so kind to her, didn't treat her as ... well, anyway, thank you. I'm very glad you were able to make it."

"As I told Master George, you will always have a friend in me, milady. I wish you both every happiness," he returned sincerely, surprised again when the marquess also took his hand firmly and thanked him.

He felt many eyes on him as he walked away, and distracted himself with getting a drink nearby, not sure what to do with himself. Therefore, he was close enough to hear the subsequent exchange.

"My dear, who was that scruffy young fellow you were greeting so warmly?" came the craggy voice of an old biddy.

"He was our underbutler," Edith explained; Thomas thought he heard a warning edge to her voice, but dismissed the notion.

"Oh? Well, that explains what he's _wearing_ , but if he's not your underbutler anymore, then frankly, it's a little gauche that he crashed the party. You should have him tossed out, not indulge him!"

Thomas seriously considered ducking into one of the servants' passages just then.

"He _didn't_ crash it!" Edith snapped. "He saved my life once -- as far as I'm concerned, he's the most important guest here! But perhaps we should have pruned some _other_ guests from the list. Now please excuse me, but your identity escapes me, and I have other people I wish to thank."

Thomas grinned into his cup of punch, proud of the woman he had essentially grown up alongside -- and allowed himself to have a little pride of his own, the words " _most important guest here_ " echoing in his ears. Even if it wasn't true, it meant the world to him to hear her speak up for him.

Still, though, he felt woefully out of place, enough so that when Carson was having trouble, Thomas leapt at the chance to help, as much for his own sake as for that of Carson and the family. When Carson insisted Thomas was a guest, Thomas wasn't sure if that was really the reason Carson was refusing his aid -- could it be that, despite their more amicable interactions of late, Carson still hated him? The memory of the man confirming, after Andy's visit to his room, that he still didn't trust Thomas, was still a raw one. Exasperated that the man would even let _Talbot_ pour before him, Thomas pressed on, managing to stay his temper as he insisted on helping. 

As Lord Grantham made some cryptic comment about knowing an answer, Thomas vaguely recollected other times recently when the Carson had been inexplicably clumsy. He realised, with an unexpected pang of sympathy, that this likely wasn't an entirely new, or at all improvable, state of affairs. Carson was getting on in years, plain and simple. And so Thomas understood why when, suddenly, Lord Grantham was asking him if he would like to come back and be butler.

It was everything Thomas wanted: to have proven himself worthy (and he finally felt like he was, strangely, not when His Lordship said as much, but rather when Carson gave his heartfelt agreement, taking pride in Thomas' training). To return to the place he considered home, to get out of the hell of perpetual, mind-numbing boredom that was butlering in the Stiles Manse, to see the Crawley children and Baxter and his longtime coworkers / newly made friends again, daily. To be someplace familiar, a place which he had played a part in making the great House it was -- and always would be, if he had anything to say about it.

But getting all that didn't come without a price. To the greatest shock of his life, it actually _hurt_ knowing that Carson would have to step down in order for Thomas to step up. It hurt seeing the man's heart -- and the hearts of the Crawleys and Mrs. Hughes -- break before his eyes. He would do his damndest, he internally vowed, to make sure the transition was as painless as possible, and that no one regretted it.

"Is it true, Mr Barrow?" Daisy asked excitedly as he stepped into the kitchen later, helping to carry in the detritus from the reception. "Andy says you're to be the new butler!"

"Sorry, Mr Barrow!" Andy apologised, blushing at Thomas' exasperated look as the younger man hurried out of the room to do more fetching.

"It is, I'm afraid," Thomas confirmed, hurrying out himself, not wanting to witness Patmore's likely-to-be-negative reaction. 

For Carson's part, the man was gracious -- and not just to be polite; he seemed to genuinely be making an effort at kindness towards Thomas, when Thomas poured the wine for everyone later. The pouring was a privilege usually reserved for the butler, who was actually still Carson at that moment, but obviously the task was as beyond Carson's capabilities downstairs as it had been above. The others seemed to take the change as an official passing of the torch, congratulating Thomas warmly as he went around with one bottle after another. As he poured for Carson and Mrs Hughes, he couldn't help but wonder if this was anything like what it would have been like when his father retired, if only Thomas had stayed to take over the family business.

He allowed himself to get carried away with the fancy, imagining Mrs Hughes as his proud (but also a little sad) mother, and Baxter, who'd hugged and kissed him joyously with the news, as his sister. (He even extended the dream to think of Daisy as one of his cousins -- and Patmore as his somewhat disapproving and skeptical aunt.) He genuinely hoped Anna and Bates would be all right with the change, and found himself surprisingly eager to see their little one.

As luck would have it, he was the first to see the baby, when the time came.

~* * *~  
"Are you all right?" John asked nervously from behind her for the third time as Anna padded carefully down the last set of stairs, babe in arms.

She just chuckled, in too good a mood to be exasperated. "I am beyond all right," she assured him. "I will never _not_ be all right again!"

Thomas came out of the cellar just then, a bottle in-hand. "Oh!" His face lit up like she'd never seen it -- or even thought him _capable_ of doing -- when he laid eyes on their son. She couldn't help but feel a little bit proud her son earned such a reaction from the usually dour man (though, to be fair, she supposed he hadn't been quite so dour in recent months). "Well, hello, little one!" he whispered, stepping closer. "Congratulations!" he added, glancing at Anna and John both, and offering John his hand.

Anna was relieved her husband accepted without hesitation -- and that he didn't crack a joke about catching Thomas getting into the wine. It was a little odd the man had been down there, but maybe he was simply being kind and helping out, fetching a bottle as a favour to Carson.

"Have you had a celebratory drink yet?" Thomas asked, holding up the bottle.

"We have, thank you," John replied, holding up what was left of the bottle they'd been gifted.

"Ah, very good! Coming in to introduce him, or would you rather slip out peacefully? Or maybe do it half-way, have one or two people at a time see you in the sitting room?"

"Oh, _that's_ not a bad idea -- can you go ask Mrs Hughes if it'd be all right?" The servants' hall sounded a bit rowdy, but she did admittedly want to show off, it had been such a hard road bringing Little John into the world ....

"I'll have her out in a jiffy," he promised, grinning.

True to his word, Mrs Hughes and Carson came out a moment later, Hughes cooing and Carson smiling with rare fondness at the sleepy little bundle as they escorted his proud parents to the sitting room.

"Lady Mary says we can keep him in the nursery, so I should be back to work soon," Anna assured Mrs Hughes.

"Well, he won't want for attention up there, that's for sure," Mrs Hughes said with a doting smile, taking the babe in arms.

"Indeed, you won't mind me visiting, will you?" Carson asked, sounding hopeful.

"Be our guest," Anna assured him, smiling at the big softy.

"And if you want him near when downstairs, I'd be happy to set up a little cot in the hall," the man added.

"Well, maybe you should ask Mr Barrow about that," Mrs Hughes weighed in.

"Mr Barrow?" Anna and John echoed, exchanging glances.

"Oh! That's right, you'll have been upstairs when ...." Mrs Hughes gave her husband an uncertain look.

Carson sighed. "I have ... retired. Mr Barrow will be the new butler, once he's worked out his notice."

"But Carson will still oversee large events," Mrs Hughes hurriedly added.

"Oh!" Anna didn't know what to say.

"I guess it _is_ about time for the changing of the guard," John mused. "I know His Lordship is having trouble handing the reins over to Lady Mary and Mr Branson, but he's trying."

Carson seemed to grow thoughtful at that.

Anna slipped her hand through her husband's arm. Trust him to find a diplomatic response! She wondered, though, how he felt about the news himself, remembering how upset he'd been when Thomas had been made underbutler ....

When they were leaving later, after everyone had had a chance to see John, Jr, they caught Thomas just as he was about to head up the stairs.

"We hear congratulations are in order for you as well, Mr Barrow," John, Sr offered.

"Oh! Yeah, I suppose so," Thomas replied, rubbing his neck uneasily. "I hope the news isn't too much of a disappointment to everyone!" he quipped.

"Don't be silly!" Anna chided. "Just ... look at this new job with the same resolve you had for when you left for that other one. Be nice, and get people on your side."

"Easier said than done," Thomas replied, running a hand through his unusually imperfect mane -- clearly he'd been done that a few times already. "I have a _history_ here -- my own doing, I know, but ... there it is, all the same."

"But people _saw_ how you've changed before you left -- don't you remember everyone wishing you well? There'll be a learning curve, sure, but I have faith you'll work it out," Anna assured him.

"And you'll have us to help," John added.

Thomas looked so caught off-guard, so _vulnerable_ , Anna's heart broke a little. "To be honest, after how I behaved towards _you_ , most of all, I wouldn't blame you if you'd rather help me out the _door_ ...." he admitted, chagrined.

"I said I'd rather we be friends, and I _meant_ it," John reminded him, holding out his hand.

Looking moved, Thomas took it with what looked to Anna to be a firm shake. "I appreciate that, Mr Bates, thank you," he replied thickly, eyes glittering. "I'll do my best to stay worthy of that -- I just hope it's enough."

"It _will_ be," Anna insisted.

Thomas managed a tight-lipped smile and a nod.

"Do you want to hold him?" she offered, feeling like Thomas needed something more -- an overture of trust.

He stared at the bundle in her arms, mouth agape. "Can I?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"Of course! Say hello to your Uncle Thomas, Little John," she said, placing the babe in his arms.

Thomas looked stricken. A tear fell, and he sniffled as he looked at the child, looking more likely to cry than the baby!

"Thomas?" Anna laid a hand on his shoulder, worried.

"My sister had a son shortly after I left, and later a daughter. I'm an uncle twice over ... but I've never met _either_ of them." Anna could see him struggle to rein in his emotions. "She won't let me near them. She's afraid I'm ... _tainted_ , and that I'll spread the taint to them."

Anna steeled herself. Showing him her own horror over his sister wouldn't help him, howevermuch she wanted to hunt the woman down and give her a proper chewing out. He clearly loved and missed his sister, even if the woman just as clearly didn't deserve it. 

By the set of her husband's jaw, she could tell John was of a similar mindset.

"Well, her loss is our gain," Anna told him. "I've seen you with Master George, and Lady Sybbie, and little Marigold. I'd be happy to think you'd be around our little John when he's in the nursery too. And I'm certain Lady Mary hopes you'll be there for the children just as Carson was for her and her sisters growing up -- it's why she argued with her father over your dismissal in the first place!"

Thomas had been avoiding their eyes, but met Anna's now, voice small but his own eyes full of hope as he asked, "She did?"

Anna nodded. "She complained to me about it later. He'd said something about how they didn't have any choice, but George could hire you back when _he_ was in charge."

"Then I'm all the more grateful His Lordship changed his mind, so I didn't have to wait that long!" he laughed, nervously.

"We _all_ are. Carson had to retire one day," John weighed in. "We're lucky you were willing to carry on in his place -- someone we already know and trust. That despite all the changes, there will still be a sense of familiarity -- of _family_ \-- going forward."

Thomas smiled more brightly, nodding. "Well, ah, we should all get some sleep," he said, gently handing the baby back to Anna, stroking the child's head fondly in farwell. (To be honest, she was a little surprised he was so good with the child, but he'd moved right up to the top of her list of potential babysitters.) "Goodnight, and Happy New Year," he said before hurrying up the stairs.

"Well, you think you know a person," John mused when they got outside. "That explained a lot."

"It did," Anna agreed, thinking. "John, what do you think of making Thomas Little John's godfather?"

He was quiet so long, she blurted, "Forget it, I got carried away with the moment!" at the same time he replied, "I think that's a grand idea."

"You do?"

"I do. Even I have seen how good he is with the children. He's changed. I think it would be good for everyone if we acknowledged that, and encouraged those changes to be permanent."

"You're not afraid of him 'tainting' our child?" she teased.

John chuckled. "If such a condition were contagious, I never would have _needed_ to help him -- Jimmy would have fallen for his charms and they would have run away together in the night." He paused. "Or do you mean ... do I think he would ...."

"No, absolutely not," she said firmly, shuddering. "He would no more do anything to a child than you or I would. For all Jimmy's youth, or Andy's, they were still grown up -- Thomas likes _men_ , not boys."

John nodded, opening the door for her. "I would far sooner trust him with a child than a bottle of wine -- and these days, I'd actually trust him with that too."

"Indeed," she agreed, stepping in and laying the baby down in the beautiful cot John had made. "Did I ever tell you why he had it in for Nanny West?"

"You mean it _wasn't_ just because she didn't treat him with what he considered his due respect?"

"Apparently not! Cora told Lady Mary that she caught Nanny West saying vile things to little Sybbie, calling her a half-breed!"

"And Thomas found out about it?"

"He at least suspected something, yeah -- tried to warn Her Ladyship that something just wasn't right. I remember when Lady Sybil died, he was really broken up, more than just about anyone -- certainly more than I'd thought him capable of being. He told me she was one of the few people who'd ever been kind to him. I guess he's been looking out for her daughter ever since."

"Well. Looks like he was _never_ quite the man we thought. Maybe it's less a matter of him changing than that we're just better able to see him as he truly is!"

"Oh, I think he _has_ changed -- gotten less angry, less convinced the world is out to get him. The cruel streak _was_ there. But yeah, I'm starting to better see why he was like that in the first place. I mean, he wasn't exactly wrong about people having it in for him, and it seems he didn't start it -- I think his family did, that he _became_ prickly because they turned their back on him."

"I seem to remember overhearing him telling Baxter once that his father was never very kind to him, when she'd said the man was kind to her -- that's typical of abusers, seeming kind to everyone else, so they won't believe the person capable of cruelty. And when I ... well, when I threatened Thomas for trying to frame me, he was fearless, like he was used to threats. Abused people often lash out at the world, and grow manipulative and conniving -- they learn it from their tormentors. It's how they survive, really ...."

"And we know people pretty recently were poisoning Andy against Thomas, just because of his inclinations -- that sort of thing has probably happened to him a lot, people warning others away from him just because of that. That's one kind of situation that definitely isn't Thomas' fault. I mean, that's _why_ we tried to talk Andy around, isn't it? We just underestimated how _bad_ that situation _was_. I feel like I should have known Thomas needed help, though -- he got kinder when Jimmy was around, even _before_ they became friends, and he got very mean again when Jimmy left."

"Everyone needs friends," John agreed. "And he has _tried_ to make friends before -- at least with _some_ people. Who knows, maybe he and I would have gotten on better if we hadn't been wanting the same job when I got here. At any rate, I _do_ think we've seen the last of his dark side -- he really has grown up, finally. And hearing about how he looked out for Sybbie just convinces me all the more: Thomas _should_ be Little John's godfather. He's young yet, and healthy, and has no children of his own to worry about, and never _will_ .... Yes, I can't think of a better candidate, really."

~* * *~  
A strange thought occurred to Thomas as he lay in his bed: he wouldn't be coming back to this room when he returned to Downton! The thought made him profoundly sad. And, well, the thought of sleeping in Carson's old bed was actually a little _revolting_ ....

Then another thought occurred to him: he was going to be the boss, right? Didn't that mean he could bloody well sleep where he _wanted_ to?

_There we go -- my first executive decision!_

He fell asleep easily then, with a smile on his lips, no less -- probably for the first time since he'd left his father's home.

~* * *~  
"You want me to _what_?" Thomas found himself asking Anna the next morning, sure he must still be asleep.

"Be Little John's godfather," she replied simply.

"But ... doesn't that mean being his ... spiritual guide or something?"

"Mmm-hmm," she nodded.

"Oh don't worry -- we're not particularly religious, so you won't have to do much of that sort of thing," Bates added. "It's more of, if anything should happen to us -- and what are the odds of something happening to _both_ of us?" 

"But even if it did, Lady Mary is his godmother, so you wouldn't have to deal with him alone," Anna pointed out. "It's just ... _peace of mind_ , knowing you'll be looking out for him, and formally recognising that fact. You'd officially be a member of our family!"

Just when Thomas didn't think life could surprise him any more .... He suspected this offer had something to do with his confession about his sister the night before, but he didn't mind; it touched him deeply that these two would welcome him so thoroughly into their child's life, despite all he'd done to them in the past -- and despite what he _was_. That they would let him be the uncle he'd never gotten to be to his _actual_ niece and nephew.

"I would be honoured -- thank you!" he told them sincerely, feeling like another piece of his life was finally falling into place.

He wasn't sure what he'd done right for things to suddenly go his way, but he prayed he didn't screw it up and give Fortune a reason to rescind it all ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of people hated the idea of Thomas coming back to Downton, and really, I can understand their concerns -- there were points that stuck in my craw a bit too (and I wish there had been *more*, but that's what fanfic's for, right?) But overall, personally, I loved it -- it was pretty much what I'd been hoping for for him! Hopefully I've managed to make the end more palatable for those who hated it, and offered believable insight as to why I see that ending as a victory for him. (And no, that's not an invitation to flood the comments with how I'm "wrong" -- I swear get what the problems are, I do! If you hated this fic, sorry I wasted your time! ^^;)
> 
> There will be one more fic in this series, exploring his life after the finale.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed my writing, I invite you to explore my original fantasy storyverse, [Gaiankind](http://gaiankind.com)! You can even find Gaiankind stories for free [here](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Gaiankind) on AO3!


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